Today is flash fiction Friday. Here is a story for your amusement. Although I suppose you could comment on it too, or debate a minute point of it or something.
Charlie “the Fang” Dentin sat in his dressing room while Annette his hairdresser worked magic with Vidal Sassoon mousse and Aqua Net hairspray. She nearly always used a full can of both on Charlie’s bleached white, shoulder length hair. She pulled up and sprayed until her fingers got stuck and then he predictably helped pry her out and pulled her on his lap for an even more predictable bad boy of rock kiss.
After Annette giggled and ran from the room, Charlie stood to begin his pre-stage mantra. “O-why-ee-o-why-ee-o-me-ee” was internally spoken as he stretched his legs in the white, tight leather pants. He didn’t need another wardrobe malfunction this year; 1984 had been bad enough already what with that boy throwing up on him and then that hot teacher running a red permanent marker down his front when he tried to steal a kiss from her. Charlie’s outfits didn’t grow on trees.
His manager Carl poked his head in the door. “You ready?”
“Yeah. Got my guitar?”
“Right here.” Carl opened the door all the way for Charlie. “Now remember, stick to the songs we rehearsed. I don’t need another Syracuse incident.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Charlie reached for his electric guitar and chanted to himself again. Four more shows this year. He could make it. He knew he could.
He slid the guitar strap over his neck and ran his fingers across the strings. He imagined himself opening for Def Leopard at Shea Stadium. He could hear the mob of rockers chanting his name, “Fang! Fang! Fang!”
The flourescent lights in the gymnasium of Harbor View Elementary had been dimmed. Charlie walked to the stage and plugged into the amp. He strummed a single chord and the first through fourth graders screamed. He wailed his way through a rocked out version of why to brush your teeth and at the end the dwarfed crowd was silent.
A lone voice came from the crowd, “Mrs. Ditner, why is he playing a giant toothbrush?”
Charlie cringed inside and began his second song, “Molar, Why’d Ya Have To Go Bad.”
Charlie “the Fang” Dentin knew it was either play a toothbrush-shaped guitar and sing dentally, or work at the local factory plucking chickens.